


Busted

by jenni3penny



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 03:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny
Summary: Awhile ago an Anon on Tumblr requested these guys getting caught while making out in Jack's office...





	Busted

"I've seen that look often enough. That's your 'annoyed' face."

Nothing changes on his features, no shift or other leaks of emotion, no tells. She's known Leon long enough, well enough, to be able to parse out one look from the next. "Your boyfriend is gonna get himself killed."

_Her boyfriend_… Jack just huffs out a laugh that's made more of sadness than humor. The term itself is hard to attribute toward a man like Gibbs regardless of who is saying it, regardless of their non-relationship. She couldn't call him that even if the term _were_ appropriate, not with a straight face.

Leon cocks her a look of scrutiny and she has to decide on the fly if she's going to dignify his quip, his little jab at her relationship (or lack thereof) with one of his other senior agents. She flat out knows that there's no pretending she doesn't understand who he's talking about, not when it's Leon. He's lobbed the less-than-subtle accusation her way before, just to see her reaction, to see if he can glean any new information. They've started to discuss it a few times, only for her to brush it off before getting emotional. Gibbs himself would be proud of her avoidance skills.

"If I had a _boyfriend_ I would be trying to bribe a back rub out of him right now rather than still sitting here." She stretches back in her chair to punctuate the argument, unconsciously frowning at how tight her shoulders have become. She's been carrying more stress lately than healthy. It'll need to be addressed. "What'd he do now?"

"You haven't heard?"

Jack studies him a moment, watches the obvious surprise take his face as his jaw tips to an angle. Whatever has happened is something he'd truly expected her to already know about and, for some reason, that stirs concern in her. Knowing it's Gibbs, knowing that he's usually already stopped in to say his goodnight… Anything that reaches Leon before the office scuttlebutt reaches her has to be something more significant than Gibbs just being a grump or mouthing off or taking a suspect down a peg or two. It must be something more serious.

"What happened?" she asks as she leans forward, tipping her desk chair to a more stable and upright angle.

"He and Torres tried, and _failed_, to stop a car bomb from going off and I told you they're too much alike," Leon accuses, a hand up between them to pause her from interrupting. "Because who ends up in the emergency room? The both of them. That's half the team."

All the heat and color sifts slowly from her face and she feels its cool blankness as the words start to make sense, as the language comes back together and reformulates in her brain.

_Car bomb. Failed. Emergency room_.

She's still trying to comprehend entirely what he's saying as she stands, both palms leaning swayed flat to the top of her desk. Nausea strikes so suddenly that she has to turn her head downwards and exhale with her eyes shut.

_It's not possible._

_She would have, should have, known._

Well, actually what he's saying is more than possible, it's pretty damn likely. Its sounds exactly like the both of them.

"And you said 'We trained Torres that way', like I had a choice in the matter. Like there was ever another possible outcome with Gibbs involved."

He's still just sitting there, casually leaned back in the chair and she doesn't quite understand how he's so calm. Even as she moves from her chair and swipes her hair from out of her face, reaching for her bag, he's still just comfortably watching her from the other side of her desk.

_What the hell is he doing just sitting there??_

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks in a voice much softer than the sound of everything going through her head.

"Are you _kidding_? I'm going."

"They've already released him." His voice is calm, measured. "Relax."

"_What_?"

"I just sent McGee to go get them."

What?? She doesn't entirely understand and she's fairly sure it's because the words haven't entirely sunken in yet. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?

"Maybe because I knew it wasn't too serious and I was worried you could possibly overreact. Crazy, huh?" Leon accuses, a brow arched as he sits forward and points up at her before jamming his finger down on the center of her desk. "This is exactly why he's gotta rein it in, Jack."

"He doesn't _know_," passes her lips before she can catch it and her head turns reflexively, facing toward the window to avoid Leon. She can already imagine his reaction, she sure as hell doesn't need to see it. "He doesn't - "

"Bullshit," he slaps back with the impatience and frustration of a brother, a friend, rather than a boss. His tone is exactly what she had expected. "Don't you let him off the hook that easily. You _know_ better."

_Knowing better_ rarely means all that much when it comes to emotional attachments and unresolved feelings.

_Knowing better_ doesn't stop her heart from pounding its way up into her throat at the idea of him hurt (or worse, Jacqueline).

She _does_ know better.

That doesn't change a goddamn thing…

"Man can't have a deathwish and a family at the same time. You don't remind him of that, then I will." Her silence is her only trustworthy response as he stands from the chair and waves toward the door. "I'm sending Bishop up here. She's rattled and down there by herself."

"Leon - "

"She needs someone, Jack." She has no doubt that he's right, his smile going gentle but purposely small as he heads for the door. "So do you, like it or not."

***

Ellie's voice carries softly into the hall and he can hear her harried tone, if not her words, before he even reaches the office doorway. His steps slow down, body already raging at him for having been reckless and stupid and in hindsight… He really probably should have let Torres run the play. A younger and more agile body, quicker reflexes… He had to admit that Nick had been spot on in taking him down, dropping them both behind cover.

"Tim says they're back."

"We're back, yeah," he offers as he forces himself into the increasingly familiar office, trying not to show off the obvious limp and wince now plaguing him. The last thing he needs (or wants) is for either of them to fuss over him for making a piss poor decision.

"Gibbs!"

The wall of force that hits his chest keels him slightly and he has to press back on his heels to stay vertical, flinching as pain rockets down his entire right side. Ellie's head against his shoulder and her arms tight around him, both things suddenly make him clench right back in answer.

She smells like sweet mint and something citrus and it's the same way she smells every day but every day that he cheats death it smells like something new and fresh and clean and God wouldn't dare take all his daughters away…?

Not if he has anything to say about it...

Not if it means putting himself between her and the hurt.

"M'fine," he murmurs, too quiet for anyone but her to hear, too gentle to jar her as she rubs her face closer into his shirt sleeve.

"Just checking."

He smiles after her innocent admission, letting it reflexively widen as she circles her arms tighter around him and squeezes. He figures the pain her fervor brings him is the cost of being reckless. At least… he thinks the price is just that small until he looks up and searches for Jack, until he finds her wordlessly watching them with fear.

The price he's gotta pay for diving headlong into stupid uncertainty and possible disaster is so much bigger than just the physical pain, he realizes.

Especially if the look on her face is anything to go by...

***

He tries. She'll give him some credit, because he _does_ try to say something to her without speaking. His jaw lifts and his eyes flinch thinner to privately speak his mea culpa as he rubs his cheek against the side of Ellie's head.

He does try to give her a theoretical apology, despite his rule to the contrary.

She's just not ready to accept it quite yet, not when her heart is still boxing the back of her ribs. Her throat is constricted, teeth together and her tongue pressed hard to the roof of her mouth to keep her from just speaking before she has a chance to think.

Because she can barely really think and she's not entirely sure she wants to, not as he loosens Ellie's arms from his waist and he catches the younger woman's jaw. His hands are both scraped up but the right one seems to have taken the brunt of force when he fell. And if he thinks she didn't see the way he limped as he entered her office then he must have also hit his goddamn fool head on the way down.

"Torres is downstairs. Banged his knee pretty good and his ears are still ringing."

"He deserves it," Ellie frowns, the side of one hand rising to rub at her cheekbone. She hasn't cried but she had been damn near it and she sympathizes with her.

Jack just snorts and the words come out of her before she has a chance to censor them, or question them. "They both deserve what they got for what they put us through."

"Said I'm sorry."

He didn't. He _tried_. But silence is still silence.

"You didn't," she answers dryly, jaw up and eyes glittered almost black. She can see Ellie slightly shift beside him, her tone a warning to the both of them.

"I'm gonna go check on Nick," the younger woman says and he nods, all of them knowing it's likely the only escape opportunity she'll have. Gibbs just gives her a small smile, barely there but true, one she returns quickly. "I'm glad you're okay."

Jack can't be jealous of the relationship they have, not with how evident his affection becomes, how honest his gentleness is when it comes to his proverbial 'daughters '.

But she _can_ envy how easy it seems for Ellie to be close to him...

"Go on." He nods back toward the door, pressing along her arm, the both of them watching her leave.

"See, you didn't actually say anything," she lets out, feeling like her lungs are on fire for having held everything in as long as she did. Ellie barely has the door shut and she watches his shoulders loosen and lower when it's finally just the two of them in the room. It's barely perceptible but she's become a master at noticing the things he does when he's around her - and apologies are not generally on the list. Even silent supposed ones. "You rarely do."

"You mad at me for what I did or for what I didn't do?" The way he speaks is not nearly as flippant as she had expected. The question sounds mostly sincere, pulling her from the quiet way she had been cataloguing the raw scrapes that traced his right temple and cheekbone.

"I'm not… _mad_." That's a goddamn lie. She knows it and he knows it, too.

She can feel the slick sour taste the words leave in her mouth, more sadness to them than anger. She _is_ sorta mad, though. She also realizes that he has little context as to _why_ she's so pissed. He may suspect but she doubts he has any idea how deeply she cares for him, how emotionally unstable that makes her feel sometimes.

The quick frown he gives her is a direct descendent of his disbelief, brows pinched together as he moves forward. "Looks like mad from here."

"Leon wants me to remind you that you have responsibilities to the people who - "

"T'hell with Leon right now." He waves it off like a nuisance, a pest, his face distorted by bruising and frustration, weariness. He has aged a year in a day and she wishes she could just slowly wash it off him.

Jack rolls her eyes, voice gone droll in answer. "Can't imagine why he's frustrated."

Gibbs just moves in without waiting for an invitation. She watches him get closer, noting the bruises that are already starting to shadow his skin, deepening and darkening the angles of his face. He'll have a hell of a bruise by morning. "I _know_ Leon. I _get_ Leon. Tell me why _you're_ mad, Sloane."

"You _know_ why," she says softly, unconsciously reaching out and tugging at him. He's suddenly close and warmer than she had expected. Heat waves off him, just rolling over her and enveloping her in the smell of him. He's a wall of broad-chested warmth and happy comfort and it's so tempting, especially as adrenaline crashes and their emotions go flat. He is her comfort, so perfectly enticing. So perfectly… secure. She can't even argue herself in regards to that summation. She wants his security...

Instead of acknowledging it more she shakes her head against how close his jaw is, knowing that if she turns her head two inches left then she'll find his mouth with hers but instead all she can do is tug on his shirt and mutter "_Stop it."_

"M'not the one doing it, Jack." His slow whisper draws her attention to their hands and she realizes that he's absolutely right.

_She's_ the one who reached for him.

She's the one with a death grip on his jacket lapels, tucking him incrementally closer. He's got just a loosely linked hold around one of her wrists and the other hand has caught the opposite elbow. Her body flinches at the realization and she feels them both flex into the moment. A quick grunt of negation comes off him just before both his hands catch her closer and deny her attempted retreat.

"Don't you dare," he murmurs quietly. "Don't make me chase you, Sloane."

"Because you're injured?" Her right hand rises to emphasize the beginnings of the bruise he has coming, tentative fingertips circling around the edge of it while she unconsciously makes a 'tsk' noise against the back her teeth. She can feel him watching as she distracts herself, not sure she can breathe and meet the bloodshot brightness of his eyes at once.

"Because I'm old and tired and I think we've danced around it enough."

Jack just huffs a half laugh between them, letting her left hand flatten along the solid stretch of his chest. "I doubt I'll ever get you to dance."

"Think you'd be surprised by what you could get me to do," he admits, ducking his jaw enough to draw her attention back as she lets her fingers fall from his face.

"Yeah? Can I get you to stop being stupid when it comes to explosives?"

His automatic grin is so known to her, so studied and learned and she inhales as he freely gives her another chance to enjoy it. "Do my best."

The gentleness in him is what surprises her as he turns his mouth to hers, his slow and calculated precision as he kisses her. There's a hand sliding up to brace the back of her head, fingers sliding frictioned heat into her hair while the other hand pulls her in by the hip.

She answers with the same slow softness at first, arching into him, letting both hands slide up his chest. His tongue finds hers and she gives him a quiet moan, nails on his scalp while the other hand braces on his shoulder and, _fuck_, he's strong and tall. All his intentional lagging is a tease that she hadn't expected and she hears her own whimper when he pulls his mouth away just to send it down her jaw to her throat.

Her head tips to help him along, fingers soothing themselves in the short trimmed hair on the back of his head. "Leon called you my boyfriend. I can't believe he used that - "

"_Sloane_." She can feel him smile against her throat, a laugh hot-pressed up under her jaw while his fingers find their way up under the fabric of her shirt. "Don't really care what you call me."

Her eyes go thin, a sigh straying off her as he looks up with a smile. Jack rubs her thumb just behind his ear, watches him tip his head into the intimacy of the touch with a groan. "No more cowboy stuff, huh?"

"Can't promise _that_." He just grins again before laying his lips to hers again, humor filling the kiss as she playfully jerks him close. His laughter lands on her tongue just as she wraps her arms at his shoulders and lets her body relax against his.

She only hears the door open as an echo, a subtle clicked soundtrack to the moment that he draws back. It's just barely audible beyond the way all the blood is rushing to her ears.

"_Boyfriend_ though?" she whispers as he groans his own acknowledgement, both of them aware of their sudden audience.

It's not until he speaks that they realize who it is… "¡Ayyy, fíjate! Holy crap! Is this for real?!"

Nick's outburst hangs accusatory and loud in the doorway as he grins at the both of them, his eyes sparkling with happiness and humor as he braces the frame. She feels a laugh escape as he punches an unspoken victory into wood and presses backward. One wink to the both of them and then he's already gone, likely to share the news with anyone and everyone he passes.

Gibbs just laughs into her hair and it's a pleasant surprise, the sheer softness of his reaction, his bare amusement as his fingers slowly brush her hair back. It breathes relief into her. "He's only got one good knee. He won't make it far. I can chase him down."

She laughs as she realizes that it's not worth it, honestly. They both know that news like this is finely fed wildfire in an office so small as theirs. Gibbs could spend an hour threatening him and the words would inevitably still spill off his lips as soon as he saw one of his teammates.

Jack smiles, shaking her head into the touch of his fingertips. Her eyes drift shut as he drives her hair behind her ear. "No, let him go. We'll just face it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" he chuckles. "You're not gonna get out of the building without facing it."

"Yeah, but I'm all right with that."


End file.
